


Parting

by horrormoviesshoes



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: M/M, Semi-unrequited love, The Age Of The Understatement era/Humbug era, basically: there's feelings and it's sad, i find it very hard to tag this....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6007522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrormoviesshoes/pseuds/horrormoviesshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Feels weird, doesn’t it?”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“What does?”</i></p><p> <i>“This. Parting, after those months on the road."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Parting

**Author's Note:**

> I tried a few new things, and projected my sadness onto Miles. I'm also not a big fan of Valentine's Day. Sorry.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!

I always want what I can’t have.

Always have, too.

I remember one particular time. I was shopping with my mother, as a child. I wanted the red toy, instead of the green one, and threw a fit when the saleswoman informed us that the red toy was sold out.

And now, all those years later, nothing’s changed. I still want what I can’t have.

This time it was just as unavailable, even though it was right in front of me, within reach: You, brushing a long curl from your face while bringing your beer up to your lips, taking a rather big sip.

And that proximity might just be the reason I think I can have it to myself.

You swallow quickly and cough shortly, before you tip your head up to laugh at a joke that floats in the air. The soft sound is like music to my ears, my favourite melody. Better than any we’ve ever written together, on our album.

Recording had been great, touring had been a blur, and all I really remember was finding shelter in those big, brown eyes of yours, staring at me from across the stage, when we performed. I couldn’t always see them as they were often covered by soft, brown locks, that grew longer the longer we were on the road, but I knew they were there, sparkling with excitement and assurance.

And I soared.

I lost myself in that world.

And then I fell.

I don’t remember exactly when it happened. I guess it was a slow process that suddenly hit me all at once one night when I was staring at you for too long. I knew that I had fallen hard, a feeling that was only enhanced by the careful, soft press of your lips against my own for the first time. I was trembling an it was almost like being a teenager again.

This moment, right here, right now, was gonna be one of the last times I would see you in a long time. Three days after our tour has ended, we’re back in London for our ‘parting party’, as you called it. A new recording process is in order, and this time it doesn’t include me.

For the longest time I’ve heard you gush about a new album with your own band. Our project had inspired you. You wrote a big portion at night. I often heard you stepping out of bed, proceeding to flick the light on, and scrabble something down in one of those leather bound notebooks of yours, before you quickly glanced back at me, to make sure you didn’t wake me, flicking the light off, and getting back into bed, curling into my chest.

One night I almost told you. On the last evening on tour. We were in bed together, the last night we had together, naked, limbs tangled together, and you slept soundly on my chest, clinging to me, really. Suddenly you shifted and yawned, and looked up at me with those eyes, and in that moment, those three words nearly tumbled over my lips. But, those words were never said, and you just flashed me a goofy smile, before dropping your head again.

“Would you like to go for a smoke, mister Kane?”

I’m snapped from my thoughts by that same goofy smile, hand waving a pack of cigarettes in front of my face. I smile, and snatch the pack from your hand. “I’d love to, mister Turner,” I reply, already getting up to get our coats.

The November wind is cold against my cheeks, biting into my skin. Quickly, I put a cigarette between my lips, and without having to ask for it, you bring your lighter up, clicking a few times until the flame bursts up from the metal. Momentarily, your face is showered in a rich orange colour, until my cigarette is lit and the flame disappears, only to come back and light your own cigarette. It reminds me of the flash of a camera, and as I inhale and then puff out a cloud of smoke, I briefly wonder why I never thought of capturing the sight in front of me.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” You suddenly ask.

“What does?”

“This. Parting, after those months on the road,” you elaborate.

I laugh at that, and shake my head. “We’ve only been on the road for four months, Al.”

“You know what I mean,” you snicker. Then, far more serious than before, “I’m gonna miss you, Miles.”

I duck my head, anything to not have to look at you in this moment. My cigarette slips from between my fingers in the process and I curse under my breath before stomping it out, overdoing it in hopes of buying myself time to come up with a reply.

“Really,” you continue, stomping out your cigarette as well. “Recording with you, touring with you,” you hesitate before adding, “being with you… It’s been such a pleasure.”

I close my eyes and curse you mentally for doing this to me. I wonder if you know how fast my heart is beating and how sweaty my palms are, and how badly I want to say something, _anything_ , but at the same time how badly I don’t trust myself to do so. I look up again.

Looking back on it, that was my biggest mistake.

“Mi, are you alright?” You look concerned. Brows furrowed, looking me up and down before taking a step closer to me, curls bouncing around a soft, moonlit face. Your eyes are searching for something in mine, and I look back, looking for something myself, until,

“I love you.”

It’s out before I know it.

Your concern disappears and you laugh, creases appearing around those two beautiful eyes and you slap my shoulder. “I know, I love you, too, mate,” you mutter. “Let’s go inside, get this parting party started.” You reach for my arm and attempt to pull me along, but I hold my ground, reach for your hand. I grab onto it tightly and pull you towards me, our faces only inches apart when you whisper, “M-Miles?”

In the next moment I bring our faces together, pressing my lips to yours. Softly, but still with a certain urgency. You still, and I give you a second to scramble together what’s happening, before I bring my hands up to cup your jaw. One hand slides back and twists in your hair, brushing through the soft curls. It’s almost shocking when I feel you shift, grabbing my biceps and instead of pushing me away, like I expected you to do, you’re kissing me back.

I sigh and flick my tongue over your bottom lip. The groan that you heave makes my heart jump, and when your mouth opens after my searching touch, I’m sure it stops beating for a second. The sound of our wet kisses fill the air and I back you up against the wall.

“Oh, _Miles_ ,” you sigh, when I move my lips from your lips to your jaw, down your neck, and my fingers flutter over your blouse, raking over your ribs. Hearing my name pass over your lips like that makes me groan, and I catch a patch of skin on your neck and suck it between my lips, my heart nearly bursting from my chest as I do so. I pull back with a wet suck, admiring my work: a purple, blood clothed mark, high up your neck.

Your fingers curl in the hair on the top of my head, and you pull me up, pressing your lips to mine once more. It’s open mouthed and wet, and almost obscene, here, in plain sight, but when your tongue curls against mine, I can’t be bothered to care.

I work my way down again, leaving another mark on that beautiful neck. Going down further, I feel you tense up and hear you whisper a quick, “Miles?” I simply hum in response, pushing the collar of your blouse aside to swipe my tongue over your collarbone.

“Miles, stop,” you breathe.

Immediately I shoot up. “Wh-What?” I stutter.

“Miles, we can’t do this- I can’t do this, not…” you make a vague hand gesture, and it makes me frown.

“What do you mean? Not here?” I try. “We can go—”

“No, Miles, just…just not at all. We can’t do this.”

Tears suddenly roll down my cheeks and a little tentative, I reach for my face. I know what this means. I struggle to speak, my breath getting caught, my words getting caught with it. Through my blurred vision I see your concerned look, and I curse myself for letting all these emotions pour out right now.

“I love you,” I choke out, hot tears still rolling down, leaving burning tracks on my cheeks. “I’m serious, Alex. I love you, I do, I love everything about y—” I cut myself off with a loud sob.

Much to my surprise, tears roll down your cheeks as well. “I love you, too, Miles, but not like this. I’m so sorry, Mi, I’m so sorry.” You repeat those words again and again.

“Why did you kiss me back?” I spit out.

You stare at me for a while, tears still welling up and falling, before you’re breathing out a soft, “I don’t know.”

“That’s bullshit, Alex! You know damn well why, don’t lie to me. I’m done with all this two-stepping. I know you have feelings for me,” I push. When you just stare at me, helpless, I sigh. “I, eh,” I begin, my voice wavering. “I think it’s better if we don’t see each other for a while.”

You sob. “Wh-What? Miles, no, I— I do, I love— but you know I can’t—”

“You can’t what?”

“Alexa,” is all you say.

And I laugh. It’s a bitter laugh, at myself, mostly about how stupid I’ve been, because I really should’ve know this would happen. It’s also an angry one, because I realize you're a coward. And the more I think of that, the more angry I get. I’m not thinking, just speaking when I ask, “Where were your cares for Alexa on this tour, hmm? That evening, back in an alley in Sweden? Or right after the Mayan. You couldn’t get on your knees quick enough, could you? You weren’t thinking of Lex. Were you even thinking of me?” I scoff. “The only person you care about is yourself; not Alexa, not me, _you._ ” I clamp my hand over my mouth, immediately regretting what I had just said.

I watch in horror as you drop your hands to your side, your face turning to a grimace. You bite your lip and give a small nod of your head. “I see,” you squeak.

“Al, I’m sorry,” I try, shooting forward and reaching out for your arm.

“Y’know, you’re right,” you say, shrugging away from my touch. “Maybe it _is_ better if we don’t see each other for a while. That’ll give me some time to focus even more on myself, yeah?”

“I didn’t mean— I don’t want us to part fighting.” Tears spring in my eyes again. “I can’t lose you.”

Suddenly you straighten and wipe the tears off your cheek, forcing a smile. Confused, I watch you, until I hear a, “There you are!” from behind me.

_Alexa._

She approaches us- _you_ quickly and you wrap your arm around her waist as she rests her head on your shoulder briefly. “What are you two doing here in the cold?”

“Just two friends out for a smoke, right, Miles?” To her, you might sound like you always do, but to me, it sounds like an angry snarl. I nod in reply, not trusting my voice yet. “But we’re done for now,” you say. I feel a pang in my chest, knowing it isn’t the smoking you’re talking about.

Alexa laughs. “Ready to head back in, then?” She suggests.

“Absolutely we are.” You’re already moving, walking past me, and Alexa darts after you to reach for your hand.

“You coming, Miles?” She shouts.

“I’m right behind you, be there in a bit,” I manage to say, and I watch as the two dark figures make their way back to the pub. One leans in, kissing the other’s cheek, and I quickly avert my gaze as my stomach twists.

What can I say.

I always want what I can’t have.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://horrormoviesshoes.tumblr.com) if you'd like to drop by.


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